


Moondust (Jaymes Young)

by Clitler



Series: Destiel Playlist [41]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Angst, Apple Pie Life, Because of Reasons, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Charlie's Alive!, Dean's Many Many Issues, First Kiss, Fluffy smutty ending, Frottage, Grace-powered Clean up, Heaven, Hurt/No Comfort first chapter, Internalized Homophobia, Invasion of Privacy, M/M, Oral Sex, Sad, Sad Dean, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam and Charlie need Brain Bleach, So much angst, Wet Dream, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-27 09:54:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13878444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clitler/pseuds/Clitler
Summary: When Sam and Dean get a glimpse of Castiel's personal Heaven, Dean gets much more than he bargained for.





	1. Moondust (Jaymes Young)

**Author's Note:**

> Here's your daily dose of angst, guys!  
> This isn't set in any specific season, because I'm lazy like that, but Charlie is alive and Cas is a full-angel.  
> Please note, this is a multi chapter story, so don't freak out yet.
> 
> The Explicit rating is for later chapters.
> 
> Tags will change as new chapters are added, so keep a weather eye out.
> 
> As always, unBeta'd, all mistakes are my own.

Moondust (Jaymes Young)

 

            “Well, did you look in his heaven?” Charlie said, oh-so-nonchalant as she slurped up another mouthful of Ramen noodles.  Dean wasn’t even sure how she was comfortable, sitting all folded up like that in one of the Library chairs, a hot bowl of noodles perched on her thigh, and her laptop open on the desk in front of her.

 

            Sam looked over at Dean, looking just as confused as Dean felt, “What d’ya mean? Cas doesn’t…he said he doesn’t have a heaven…” Dean trailed off, remembering the look of devastation on Castiel’s face when he’d admitted that angels don’t get their own Heaven because they don’t have souls.

 

            “Well, _technically_ , it wouldn’t be _his_ heaven, per se, but he has his own little corner of Heaven, with a capital “H”,” Charlie finally looked up at the brothers and registered their dumfounded expressions.  “It’s not, like, his own private heaven, ‘cause he, like, doesn’t have a soul, but all angels get their own…apartment, you could say, in God’s big shiny Heaven complex.”

 

            Dean just gaped at her like a landed fish while Sam sputtered next to him.  How could Cas not have mentioned this?  In all the time they’d known each other, all that they’d been through, Cas had always claimed that heaven was for souls only.  It made a certain kind of sense because where had Cas hung out all those millennia before he started coming down here to fuck shit up in the name of the Lord?  Dean seemed to have an easier time accepting this new information than Sam, who was still stuttering like a stuck record and flapping his big hands around like he was preparing for flight.

 

            “How do we even check something like that?” Dean asked, pulling a chair out to sit across from Charlie at the desk.  Sam huffed loudly and sat next to Dean.  Dean looked over at his little brother, who had gone red in the face from frustrated anger, “Dude, get your shit together,” he mouthed.  Sam rolled his eyes but finally settled down, both men giving Charlie their undivided attention.

 

            “Probably need an angel-invite,” Charlie said around a wad of Ramen, “You guys got any angels left you can trust?”

 

            Dean had to think long and hard about that one, going over the list of what he termed ‘friendly angels’ in his head.  It was not a long list.  “Maybe Inias, if we can find him?” Dean glanced at Sam, who looked back with his squinch-mouth-thinking-face but then nodded.

 

            “Or you could just pray to Castiel,” Charlie offered as she tipped her bowl back to drink the remaining broth and noodle-bits.

 

            “Tried that.  If he can hear me, he’s ignoring my calls,” Dean threw back over his shoulder as he hunted for the spell book with the angel-summoning spell in it.  “Plus, I’m curious what he’s hiding.  I mean, why wouldn’t he just tell me-us, um, about his heaven?  What’s the big secret?  Right, Sammy?” Dean snatched the book off the shelf and brought it back to the desk.

 

            “Historically, yes.  Castiel keeping a secret usually means big trouble on little Earth,” Sam agreed, despite the glare of death Charlie was shooting at him.  “Hey, I’m just sayin’.  The whole Leviathan situation was just one example.  We really don’t need to go through something like that again.”

 

            Charlie swung her arms wide, “Uh, hello? Silver lining sitting right here!”

 

            “A year in Purgatory standing right here,” Dean groused as he flipped to the page he needed.  He scribbled down the ingredient list and patted Sam on the shoulder, “Come on, Sammy, I think all of this is downstairs.”  Dean ignored Charlie’s pissy imitation of him as he and Sam headed out of the Library.

 

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            Sam lit the ring of holy fire as Dean finished the incantation.  He’d gotten surprisingly good as pronouncing Enochian of late, doing better than Sam now and didn’t that just irk the Sasquatch something fierce.  Dean took every opportunity he could get to speak Enochian, even going so far as to practice verb conjugation randomly around the Bunker.  They didn’t have to wait long before Inias made an appearance.

 

            He looked exactly the same as the last time they had seen him all those years ago, when he had taken Hester’s place and failed to protect Kevin from both Crowley and the Winchesters.  Just looking at him brought up a well-spring of guilt bubbling inside of Dean.  From Sam’s fidgeting on the other side of the fire, he was feeling at least as horrible as Dean.  Inias, himself, seemed a lot more pissed off than Dean could remember him having the capacity for.

 

            “Winchesters.  Why am I not surprised?” Inias sighed.  “What do you want?”

 

            “I’m calling in that favor you owe me,” Dean smirked.  Even a friendly angel was still an angel and he couldn’t help the little thrill he got from pissing one off.  It never failed to bring a smile to his face.

 

            Inias glared at Dean and crossed his vessel’s arms, “I don’t owe you anything.”

 

            “Yeah, ya kinda do, buddy.  After all, we could have sent you to join your girlfriend Hester in the Nothing,” Dean explained, hands open and palm up in front of him, “but we didn’t and you’re still able to rattle around down here with us monkeys.  Maybe you’ve been living the high-life, like your brother Gabriel.  Maybe you’ve been fucking with the natural order like Balthazar, who knows?  Maybe we should take you out now, before you can cause any trouble…” Dean let the threat hang in the air between them, leveling Inias with his most serious face as he waited for the angel to weigh his short list of options.

 

            Inias sighed and uncrossed his arms, throwing his hands up before letting them slap back down on his thighs, “Fine! What do you want?  And if this is about killing another angel, you can just finish me right now because there are some lines I won’t cross!  Unlike some angels, I have integrity.”

 

            “Integrity,” Dean chuckled humorlessly, “Ya hear that, Sam? He has _integrity_ …still a card, ain’t ya?”

 

            “What do you _want_ , Winchester?” The way Inias said their name was like a man trying to get the taste of shit out of his mouth but he was really in no position to choose not to associate with them, so…

 

            “Just need a lift, man,” Dean said easily, still smiling.

 

            “A lift? To where?  I’m not a Holy Taxi Cab, you know,” Inias huffed incredulously.

 

            “Need you to take us to Castiel’s little slice of Heaven.  We…seem to have misplaced him and we’d like to take a peek, see if he’s holed up at Dad’s place.”

 

            Inias laughed, throwing his head back and holding his stomach, for a full minute before he wound down and wiped non-existent tears from his eyes, “You… _misplaced_ …Castiel?  How…how does that even happen? You two are practically joined at the hip!”

 

            “Doesn’t matter,” Dean said gruffly, cutting off another bout of laughter from the angel, “Just get us up there, see if he’s there, and if he isn’t, bring us back here.  If he’s there, you can just drop us off and we’ll get him to bring us back.”

 

            “Wow, you didn’t even have to threaten my life!  I would have done it just to see Castiel’s face when you break into his last true sanctuary.  I can’t wait to see if he forgives you this, too,” Inias walked to the edge of the ring of fire, smiling hugely, “Okay, dowse this and let’s go,” he laughed, sweeping his hand over the flames.  Dean nodded at Sam, who threw a blanket over the fire nearest Dean, smothering the flames enough for Inias to walk out.  “I haven’t laughed that hard in eons, so thanks,” Inias lifted both hands, the first two fingers on each hand going to each of their foreheads, “This should be fun,” Dean heard the angel mutter before his vision went black and his stomach turned in on itself for the split second of flight.

 

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            When Dean opened his eyes, he and Sam were standing on a cobblestone walkway which led up to a whitewashed porch on a house.  Dean looked up and down what appeared to be an average, suburban American street.  Inias stood behind and to the left of the brothers, still with that shit-eating smile on his face.

 

            “This is it?  This is Cas’ Heaven?  A Stepford house in the middle of suburbia?” Dean asked the angel angrily.

 

            “It would appear so,” Inias answered happily, “I love what he’s done with the lawn,” he commented as he bent to run a hand over the perfectly green grass.

 

            “Okay, so, where is he? Is he even here?” Sam asked warily.

 

            “Oh, he’s here.  In that house,” Inias answered as he looked up at the blue sky, following a cloud as it passed quickly over the sun.  “It really is very nice here.”

 

            “How do we know he’s here, just ‘cause you said?  Forgive me if I think you’d be happy to drop us off in some random Heaven and leave us here to rot,” Dean growled as he advanced on the smiling angel.

 

            Suddenly, Inias was standing in the street instead of the grass, “First of all, I know he’s here because his Heaven is on.  And secondly, I have a feeling if I tried to leave you in some random Heaven, you’d find a way back and then kill me horribly.  Frankly, it’s just not worth the effort.  Let’s go in together, if you don’t believe me.” Inias was just as suddenly standing between the brothers on the walkway, holding a hand out, inviting them to walk to the front door with him.  “Would you like to hold my hand, Winchesters?”

 

            Dean scoffed and shot Sam a look telling him to take the rear position.  Walking past Inias’ smirking face, Dean strode purposefully up to the front door.  The porch was wide and looked like it wrapped around the side of the house.  A neat little flower bed surrounded the steps and flower boxes hung from the porch rail.  Vibrant pink and white flowers burst from hanging pots strung along under the eaves of the porch roof, too.  The smell was gorgeous, not that Dean Winchester would ever say such a thing out loud.  The front door was painted red and there was no button for a door bell.  Dean raised a fist to knock but something told him that was a bad idea.  He was starting to get a weird vibe from the whole situation, almost like they were intruding on something very private and they would regret it.  He swiped the cloud of doubt out of his mind and gingerly tried the door knob, which turned noiselessly in his hand.

 

            He glanced back at Sam to indicate he was going in. Sam nodded tightly, his mouth turned down into a taught line of worry.  Maybe he was feeling as skeevy about this as Dean was, but his desire to find Cas overrode his sense of better judgement and Dean pushed the door open just enough to slip through.  He stepped over the threshold into a small foyer, a coat closet on his right and a quaint little antique hutch on his left.  He almost jumped as he caught his own reflection in the mirror at the top of the hutch.  Dean noted the small stack of mail on the surface of the hutch, as well as a badly-made clay bowl, painted in bright primary colors, with two sets of keys nestled inside.  Dean’s heart did a weird little flip when he recognized his own keyring, with the Impala’s keys, lying on top of a set with a more modern, electronic key.  His heart rode up into his throat when he heard a very familiar voice humming from deeper in the house. 

 

            Sam and Inias almost completely forgotten, Dean walked quietly into the living room.  An over-stuffed sectional surrounded a low coffee table and there was a huge flat-screen television on the far wall.  There were a few children’s toys scattered on the rug in front of the coffee table and one of those red and white kiddie phones on top of the table.  A smear of car and home decorator magazines covered an ottoman at one end of the couch.  Sunlight streamed in the big picture window and Dean noted distantly that the television had been placed perfectly so it wouldn’t catch a glare from the setting sun.  The humming broke out into full words and Dean instantly recognized the song as Zepp’s ‘Going to California’.  Sam’s hand on his shoulder brought him back to himself and he realized he was muttering ‘No, no, no’ under his breath.

 

            Dean led the way towards the kitchen, which was separated from the living room only by a bar with four stools pulled up to it on the kitchen side.  In the last stool sat a little girl, maybe six or seven years old.  She didn’t seem to notice them, all of her attention focused on a picture she was scribbling on, her tongue poking out the corner of her perfectly pink, cupid’s bow lips.  Her dark blonde hair was split into two uneven pigtails and even from here, Dean could see a spray of freckles across her pert little nose.  As he was about to clear his throat and make their presence known, he stepped out of the kitchen and put his hand on the girl’s shoulder, ducking his head to get her attention.

 

            “Why don’t you go tell Papa lunch is ready, sweetheart,” Dean’s double said.  The little girl dropped her crayon and raised her head, looking straight at Dean, Inias, and Sam where they stood to the right of the archway into the kitchen.  Her mouth fell open on a gasp and then broke into a bright smile when her eyes landed on Sam.

 

            “Unca Sammy!” she called excitedly and squirmed off the stool, pushing past Dean’s double and launching herself at Sam.  He had no choice but to catch her and as soon as she was close enough, she planted a wet kiss on his cheek and slung her arms tightly around his neck. Dean took a step back, then another, his breath stuttering in his chest, as his double looked up and smiled at Sam, then Inias.  He stepped up with his hand out to Inias, seeming not to see the real Dean at all.

 

            “Hi, I’m Sam’s brother, Dean,” Inias shook the double’s hand amusedly, then looked over at the real Dean on the verge of a panic attack and schooled his expression.

 

            “Um, well, yes, I have to go now,” Inias stammered and released fake-Dean’s hand.  He rushed around Sam, who was struggling to hold onto the wiggling little girl, and practically ran for the front door and disappeared with a flutter of wings in the foyer.  Fake-Dean looked at Sam and tutted as he extricated the girl from Sam’s arms.

 

            “Come ‘ere, you rascal!  Now be a good girl and do what I said, Mary, go get Papa for lunch,” Mary dropped to the floor and looked up at fake-Dean with a pretend pout.

 

            “Is Unca Sam stayin’ for lunch, Daddy?”  Before fake-Dean could answer, she turned to run down the hallway, “Ne’ermine, I’ll ask Papa!”

 

            Dean had backed up to the back of the couch and was leaning on it, one hand over his heart, trying to keep it in his chest.  Sam looked over at him, all frowning concern, as fake-Dean patted him on the shoulder.

 

            “So, what was up with that guy?” fake-Dean asked as he led Sam into the kitchen.  Sam looked beseechingly at Dean as he stood back up from leaning on the couch, shaking his head to clear it.  This could **_not_** be happening.  Mary streaked out of the hallway in front of him, completely oblivious to the real Dean as he watched her run to Sam again, latching onto one of his long legs and making him drag her across the kitchen and out of Dean’s sight.

 

            The sound of a baby’s voice floated out of the hallway and Dean looked back the way Mary had come just in time to see Castiel come walking sedately out, carrying a raven-haired boy with big, blue eyes, in a back-to-front baby sling.  Castiel was looking down at the baby as he babbled and sucked on an already-wet fist.  He looked up and caught Dean’s eye as he entered the living room and came to a dead stop, his mouth hanging open in shock.

 

            Dean opened his mouth to scream at him, to demand an explanation, to force Castiel to erase this, from his Heaven and from Dean’s memory and from ever happening in the first place, but nothing came out.  They stood three feet apart, the baby kicking his chubby little legs and slobbering down the front of his carrier, both of them with their mouths hanging open, for what felt like an hour, a day, an eternity.

 

            Castiel was the first to regain his ability to speak, “ _Dean_ ,” he breathed, “Wha-what…why are you…how did…why…”

 

            “Cas,” Dean said quietly, looking to the kitchen and back to Castiel, “What the fuck is _this_? I mean…I…what the **_fuck_** , man?”

 

            Castiel’s face went red, but almost as quickly went hard, his mouth set in a tight line of anger, “ _This_ is my Heaven, **_mine._**   What are you doing here?  You have no right to- “

 

            “Oh, I beg to differ, Cas, since I’m _already_ _here_!” Dean hissed.  Abruptly the baby was gone but Dean could here him cooing in the kitchen and his double talking to the baby, like babies popped up out of thin air every day.  Hell, for all Dean knew, that _did_ happen here every day, so maybe it wasn’t a surprise.

 

            “It’s really none of- “

 

            “If you’re about to say it’s none of my business, Cas, I swear I will punch you in the face,” Dean growled, taking a step toward Castiel, who absolutely _did not_ look extremely hot in a pair of relaxed jeans and a blue, V-neck sweater.  Luckily, Sam cam striding out of the kitchen with a dopey grin on his face.

 

            “Oh my God, Cas, they’re beautiful!  Mary is just…wow, man, so cute and funny and…and sweet…Dean, are you okay?”

 

            Dean glared at his brother, “No, Sam, I am not _okay_!  Are you fucking crazy?”

 

            “Well, look, it can’t be _that_ much of a surprise, I mean, you two have been gone on each other for _years_ and- “

 

            “We’ve…wha-…what the hell are you talking about?  I don’t…we aren’t…” Dean looked at Cas for help, but the angel was standing with his arms crossed and glaring angrily at Dean, “Cas, tell him- “

 

            “ _Get out_ ,” Cas gritted out from between clenched teeth.  Dean gawped at the angel.  _He_ was the injured party here and Cas was acting like _Dean_ was in the wrong!  And Sam was acting like this was all some Harlequin Romance novel love story and when had the world gone so upside-down?

 

            “Um, about that, Cas, you’re kinda our ride home,” Sam said sheepishly.  Castiel turned his Death-Stare on Sam.  He reached out with both hands, two fingers to the forehead, and suddenly they were all stood in the Map room of the Bunker.  Dean remained staring at Castiel and so didn’t pay attention when Sam made his escape to the garage.

 

            Castiel seemed to unfold, sighing heavily and running a hand through his hair as he leaned on the Map table.  Dean noticed he was back in his Holy Tax Accountant get up and he absolutely _did not_ mourn for a split-second.  “Dean, you had no right to enter my heaven without my permission,” Dean opened his mouth to argue that point, “That being said, I…apologize…for…everything that you saw up there.  I never meant to burden you with any of that.”  Castiel turned his big eyes up to Dean’s, the plea in them obvious.  He purposefully put himself at a height disadvantage, put himself in the position of supplicant, to try to garner Dean’s forgiveness, but he wasn’t apologizing about creating a fake Dean and two fake kids, he wasn’t sorry for _that_ , just that Dean had _seen_ them.

 

            Dean sighed and leaned on the table next to Castiel, almost close enough to touch, “But you aren’t sorry that me and our kids are your own personal heaven?”  Castiel shook his head minutely and looked away toward the floor.  “Why didn’t you…how come…Cas…I’m _right here_!  I’m right here in front of you, whenever you want.  Why didn’t you just…ask me, like, just ask me out or…or…fucking _kiss_ me or something?  Why’d you have to…” Dean trailed off as he realized why he was so angry, but it was stupid and illogical, he couldn’t really be jealous of a pretend version of _himself_ , could he?

 

            Castiel was silent for the longest time before he answered Dean.  He turned hurt eyes to Dean and Dean’s heart felt like lead in his chest, “Would you have said yes?  In all seriousness, would you have said yes if I had asked you out on a date? No,” Cas shook his head and laughed mirthlessly, “you would have laughed it off as a joke.  And kiss you?  You probably would have punched me for that.”  Dean couldn’t deny either of those scenarios, especially if they had happened in front of anyone else.  He’d been burying his feelings for Castiel for so long, resurrecting them wouldn’t have been so simple as he’d like to pretend.  “I thought so,” Castiel said sadly, “I know how you feel about me, Dean.” Dean looked up sharply, “Don’t act so surprised, I’ve always known.  Your longing…is very _loud_ sometimes.  But I have also always known you have no intention of ever _doing_ anything about it.”  Dean couldn’t deny that, either, so he said nothing.

 

            Castiel turned more fully to look Dean in the eye, “My heaven, it was a way for me to…express, how I truly feel for you.  My love for you is not constrained as yours is for me, by societal expectations, internal homophobia, the imagined disappointment or an absent father figure, none of these are factors in how I would show my love for you.”

 

            “But…but, the kids?” Dean whispered.

 

            Castiel looked truly troubled at the mention of the fake kids he had brought into being.  “Yes, well, um,” he cleared his throat and looked away, “I know you’ve always secretly wanted to be a father and you would have been such a good father.  One has only to know Sam to know that.  It…they…are just another thing we could never have in reality, much like the entire relationship I created for us,” Castiel turned back quickly, his hand going instinctively to Dean’s shoulder, “And it _was_ for us, Dean, you have to understand!  That house, the children, that life…I was…perfecting it, so to speak, so that one day, when you are ready for your eternal reward, maybe you would choose that, choose me.”  Castiel’s hand slipped off Dean’s shoulder and gripped the edge of the table, instead.  “It would have been entirely your choice, of course, but I did want to give you everything you’ve denied yourself all your life.  It’s the least you deserve.”

 

            “That…that wasn’t all for me, though, was it, Cas,” Dean had a sneaking suspicion he already knew the answer to his next question, “I mean you and fake-me had to make those kids _somehow_ , right?”  Castiel looked back at him blankly, “Even though I can’t really get pregnant, I bet you had a fun time getting fake-me knocked up, huh?”  He hadn’t meant it to sound as crude as it did, but it came out sounding lewd and more than a little bitter and angry.  He was a bit of all those things, and if Castiel didn’t know that by now, then he was in love with the wrong man.

 

            “Dean, I- “ Castiel started, a fierce blush working its way up his neck.  Maybe he was finally understanding the depth of the betrayal Dean felt at finding out about his heaven, but fuck if Dean could find it in himself to care at that exact moment.  It wasn’t fair that Cas got to have what was probably years of happy memories of that idyllic life with Dean, when all Dean had was guilt-riddled fantasies of just getting to _touch_ Castiel, to kiss him and be kissed by him.  It wasn’t fucking fair that he had to wait until he _died_ to have what Cas got to enjoy whenever he chose to flit off to Heaven.

 

            Dean’s grip on the table top tightened until the plexiglass squeaked under the pressure and he swallowed the sob that wanted to rip out of his throat, “I don’t want your fucking apologies,” Dean turned his head to glare at Castiel, who seemed to shrivel under the weight of that look, “I want…I want all of it, but I can’t have it, can I?  I have to die to get what I want.  Well, that’s just not very fucking fair, is it, Cas?  I can’t have what you get to have and I fucking hate that!  You owe me…you owe me so much more than that,” Castiel swallowed hard and opened his mouth to argue, but Dean cut him off by leaning into his face, putting their lips mere millimeters apart.  “You at least owe me a kiss,” he breathed across Cas’ dry lips.  Dean licked his own lips in sympathy but kept his eyes locked on Cas’ eyes.  He caught the way they flicked down to follow the motion of his tongue, so he was prepared for Castiel bringing their lips together.

 

            At least, he thought he was prepared.  Castiel was all virgin-timid about it, barely brushing his lips across Dean’s, then pressing lightly, a breath rushing out of his nose and across their joined mouths at the contact.  Dean wasn’t about to let him get off that lightly, though.  He reached across with his right hand and ran his fingers up the back of Castiel’s neck into his hair, clamping down on that soft hair in an iron grip and using it to tilt Castiel’s head so Dean could deepen the kiss.  He ran his tongue along the seam of Cas’ lips and dove in when the angel gasped in surprised pain at the grip on his hair.  Dean went in aggressively, all the pain of seeing himself-but-not-himself living that apple-pie life with Castiel, the hollow ache in his heart where two beautiful children would have fit so nicely, all the gentle touches and panted exclamations as they made love that him-but-not-him had gotten to enjoy, all the lazy Sundays and sloppy morning blow jobs and stupid inside jokes and petty arguments and make-up sex and everything Castiel had experienced with him that he **_never got to have_** ; poured out of him and into that first kiss.  It was all clacking teeth and grunting sobs and cheeks slick with tears, until Dean broke off with a cry of anguish.  Castiel was trying to hold him still, one hand in Dean’s hair and the other petting the tears from his face.  Dean closed his eyes and ripped away from Castiel even as Cas was murmuring ‘sorry, I’m so sorry, Dean, I love you’ over and over again.  Dean buried his face in his hands and tried to stem the tide of regret for every time he’d missed the chance to have Castiel the way he really wanted to.

 

            The feel of Cas’ fingers on his shoulder broke his resolve and he shuddered at the angel’s touch.  But how could Castiel want him like this?  He was more than damaged goods, he was ruined goods, he was a junker destined for the crusher, he was nothing but broken glass.  Castiel didn’t want this smashed-up version of Dean, he wanted the normal guy upstairs.  He wanted the perpetually sexy, funny husband in Heaven, the infinitely patient father of their perfect children.  Dean could never give him that life here on Earth, not just because he couldn’t have kids or buy a nice house, but because Dean was an emotionally constipated wreck on an extended sexuality crisis with commitment issues and daddy issues and intimacy issues.  Castiel should go back to Heaven and live out eternity with _that_ other Dean, at least _one_ of them could be happy.

 

            “Go away, Cas,” Dean growled from behind his hands, “Leave me alone.”

 

            “Dean, please,” the sound of Castiel saying his name like that, like he felt _sorry_ for Dean, that was the last straw.

 

            “ ** _Get the fuck away from me!_** ” Dean screamed into his hands, still refusing to look at Castiel.  The quiet shuffle of wings signaling Cas’ compliance was lost to the great, wracking sobs that tore through Dean’s throat.


	2. Twice as Hard (Black Crows)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wrestles with his feelings for Cas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha ha! Sorry this took so long, it's a pretty long chapter, though.

Twice as Hard (The Black Crows)

 

            “So, you’re gonna what, just go back to the way things were before?” Sam asked, his face a mask of confusion.

 

            “Yeah, basically,” Dean answered as he stirred the eggs in the pan.  He prided himself on hi growing culinary prowess and perfect scrambled eggs required constant, gentle stirring, which is the reason he chose to make them while he talked to Sam about what had happened yesterday.  He could practically smell Sam’s bitchface from here.

 

            “I…just don’t see how that’s gonna work, man.  I mean, how can you just pretend-“

 

            “Don’t worry about it,” Dean snapped as he transferred the eggs to a serving dish, finishing them off with a few pieces of chives.  “Look, we already talked about it and he agreed, we’re just gonna forget yesterday happened.  What happens in Heaven stays in Heaven, ‘k?  All I need from you is…just don’t bring it up.  Not to him, not to me, and definitely not to Charlie.”

 

            “What are we not bringing up to Charlie?” Charlie asked blearily as she slumped into the kitchen, one of Dean’s old concert tees falling off her slim shoulders on one side as she rubbed her eyes and flopped into a seat opposite Sam.

 

            “Uh,” Sam glanced up at Dean as he deposited the eggs on the table between Sam and Charlie, “Dean burnt the toast and now we’re out of bread.”

 

            Dean sighed in relief and turned away, “Thanks a lot, bitch,” knowing Sam would hear the sincerity in his voice.

 

            “No problem, jerk.”

 

            “Well, that sucks,” Charlie groused, “Is there,” Dean placed a mug of coffee in front of her, black like she preferred, “coffee, thank the sweet baby Jesus!  And you, too, Dean, even though you ruined the toast portion of ‘toast and eggs’.  You’re still my number one guy,” she smiled brightly at Dean over the rim of her mug.

 

            “Hey! What am I, chopped liver?”

 

            “Ew! No, more like…chopped kale, which I also love, by the way,” Charlie teased as she scooped up a healthy load of eggs.  Dean turned his back and tuned out their friendly chatter, refilling his own coffee mug and heading out to the Library, pretending he didn’t hear Charlie’s inquiry into why he wasn’t eating.  He knew Sam would give her some plausible excuse or other, he just couldn’t muster the energy to care.  He had decided last night to find them a case and that was what he intended to do.  He was itching to kill something Evil. 

 

            Five hours and three pots of coffee later, Dean gave up the ghost, so to speak.  He’d scoured every online newspaper from Providence to Santa Barbara and nada.  He’d sent out a group text to every hunter in his Contacts and diddly-squat.  He’d even chanced a call to Missouri, hoping she could give him something.  She gave him something, alright.  Namely, an earful about being an idiot and letting a good thing pass him by because of his own stupid pride.  That had been his excuse to drum up some Tums and retire to his room to veg out with some tunes, resting on his bed with his headphones on and waiting for his stomach to settle.  So much truth on top of so much coffee was not what he’d planned for today.  He left it to Sam to find them a job, but his brother was coming up with the same great big goose egg.

 

            Despite the two gallons of coffee and the frustration of coming up dry on the case front, Dean drifted off to the soothing sounds of Led Zeppelin.  He had acted like he was fine with pretending yesterday hadn’t happened in front of Sam, but he’d had to text Castiel last night, rather than talk to him face-to-face.  Dean knew, deep down, that actually talking to Cas would lead to something a lot deeper than making sure he was going to comply with the Winchester Method of Coping With Uncomfortable Shit, specifically: let’s pretend it didn’t happen.  Watching Castiel’s face fall when Dean explained just how they would go back to the way things had been before would inevitably lead to Dean breaking down and telling Cas _why_ he had been so angry yesterday and Dean couldn’t have that conversation, best friend or not. 

 

            Falling asleep with yesterday’s events and Castiel on his mind, however, turned out to be a sure-fire recipe for an especially vivid sex dream about the angel.  In that way dreams had, Dean was suddenly in a bed, but he knew before he opened his eyes that it wasn’t his bed in the Bunker.  He could feel the warmth of the new day’s sunlight caressing his face, so he kept his eyes closed and enjoyed the comfort of the bed and the strong arm slung low over his hips as he lay on his back.  His right arm supported a heavy head that moved increasingly closer to his shoulder as the person next to him snuggled deeper into the blankets.  Dean turned his own face and buried his nose in a pile of soft hair that smelled of exotic spices and vanilla with the trace of ozone that seemed to follow Cas everywhere. _Cas_.  Dean pulled Cas closer still, humming happily when he felt the angel’s mouth open against his collar bone in a sleepy sigh.  Cas’ deep voice rumbled incoherent nonsense into Dean’s chest as he rubbed his stubbled face into the skin below Dean’s collar bone.  The tingle that shot through Dean’s skin at the rough contact and warm breath of the angel went straight to his groin.  He could feel his dick plumping up where it lay against his thigh.  Castiel tightened his grip on Dean’s hips as he stretched his lower body, a shudder running through him as he reached the farthest his muscles would stretch.  He blew a relieved gust of breath across Dean’s chest as he relaxed, tipping his head back on his neck to squint blearily up at Dean, who had finally decided to open his eyes the barest fraction of an inch.

 

            “Mornin’,” Cas grumbled, slinging his leg up onto Dean’s and rolling his hips into Dean’s.  The angel’s cock was a firm and insistent presence against Dean’s hip and he smiled to himself.

 

            “Hmmm, good mornin’ to you, too,” Dean teased in his sleep-roughened voice.

 

“You smell so good.  How do you smell so good already?” Cas queried blurrily as he snuffled lower on Dean’s body, heading for the soft trail of hair under his belly button.  Dean chuckled and closed his eyes again, relaxing further into the sheets, his right hand going to card through Cas’ messy hair.  Sleepy Cas was so adorably silly.

 

“You smell even better, angel,” Dean lifted his head to peer at where Cas was running his slim fingers in swirling circles lower and lower along Dean’s stomach, “Whatchya doin’ down there, Cas?” he asked bemusedly.

 

Castiel looked back up at him and for a moment, Dean let himself wallow in the impossible blue of his eyes, until the edges crinkled up as Cas smiled wickedly at him, “We have some time before we have to get the children up.”  He flicked his tongue out, dipping it into Dean’s belly button and forcing a (very manly) giggle out of the hunter.  “Mmmm…I wonder if you taste as good as you smell,” Cas hummed as he slid down to nuzzle at Dean’s rapidly swelling dick.  Dean gasped at the familiar/strange sensation of gritty stubble rubbing his most sensitive skin, his hand going automatically to Cas’ back.  He dug his blunt fingernails into the firm muscles there as Castiel laved his tongue from the base of Dean’s cock all the way to the head, where he lapped up the drop of precum glistening there.

 

“Fuck, Cas, yeah, angel,” Dean breathed out on a moan.

 

“Shhhh,” Castiel shushed him, “Don’t wake the babies.”  He gripped Dean loosely with his left hand and ran his tongue around and around the fleshy head of Dean’s dick, sucking at the slit, making Dean hiss and buck his hips.

 

“You better give me somethin’ to do with my mouth, sweetheart,” Dean gasped out as he ran his hand down Cas’ back to knead at his firm butt cheek.  Castiel hummed thoughtfully then turned over on his side, pulling on Dean’s left hip to get him over on his side, too.  “Oh, fuck yes, Cas, good idea,” Dean growled as he took Cas’ hard dick in hand, giving it a few, loose pumps before bringing it to his mouth and rubbing the wet head around his lips.  He looked back up the length of the angel and locked eyes with him as he licked the musky slick off his lips.  Castiel’s eyes widened almost comically before narrowing at the unspoken challenge and Dean smirked cockily back at him.  That was, until Cas swallowed the entire length of Dean’s cock in one go.  Dean’s body locked up as he gritted his teeth and tried not to shout his pleasure as Cas’ throat closed over the head of his dick.  He shivered with the force of holding back from making a sound and blinked hard to retain focus enough not to just shoot right down Cas’ throat.  Instead, he maneuvered Castiel’s dick closer to his mouth and closed his lips around the head.

 

As he fed Castiel’s length farther and farther into his mouth, Dean murmured all the things he wanted to scream, the vibrations running through Cas’ dick, making the angel groan around Dean’s cock in turn.  All the ‘please, baby’s and ‘oh, fuck, Cas’s and ‘like that’s and ‘suck me, baby’s trembled along Castiel’s dick until Dean’s nose was nestled in the crinkly hair around the base.  Dean worked his throat, trying not to gag, but had to pull back to breath, his breath ghosting hotly across Castiel’s balls.  Dean rolled them gently in his right hand while his left went to grip Castiel’s ass, pulling his cock in and out of his mouth as he swirled his tongue around the head on every back drag.  Castiel countered by drawing back to suck on the first two fingers on his right hand, bringing them back to circle Dean’s asshole as he resumed sucking Dean’s cock.  Again, in the way of dreams, Castiel somehow knew that Dean liked a lot of firm suction and not a lot of excess saliva.  Dean concentrated on what Cas liked: a lot of tongue and ball-fondling, until Castiel slipped a finger inside Dean’s tight hole and Dean groaned loudly.

 

He tried to make it last, to hold on to the almost lazy rhythm they’d established as the sunlight streamed across the bed, but Cas knew him too well, crooking a finger to tap lightly against Dean’s prostate.  One, two, three times and Dean’s orgasm rolled through him like a hurricane a split-second before Cas’ dick swelled and burst inside his mouth and he swallowed automatically, licking every drop off the angel’s cock as he thrust stutteringly into Cas’ hot mouth through his own aftershocks.

 

Dean raised his head to ask Cas if he really tasted as good as he smelled when he spotted Sam standing in the doorway, looking fit to puke, “Gross, Dean, close your damn door!”

 

Dean blinked his eyes open to the sound of his bedroom door slamming shut and Sam’s mortified grumbling as he walked away down the hall.  The wide, soft bed was gone, and he was back on his memory foam in the bunker.  Gone, too, was the delightfully debauched dream-version of his best friend and Dean groaned in shame as he realized he’d rubbed himself off through his jeans, the cooling spunk making his briefs stick to his skin uncomfortably, his hand a sticky mess, “Jesus fucking Christ,” he mumbled to himself.

 

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            Three days later, none of them had been able to come up with a case and Dean was beginning to think the supernatural world was conspiring against him.  Well, even more than usual, anyway.  They still hadn’t heard anything from Castiel and Sam’s pitying looks whenever Dean stumbled into a room were starting to grate on his nerves.  Charlie’s constant wheedling about whether or not they had found Cas yet and maybe he was in danger and don’t you even care, Dean I thought he was your best friend wasn’t helping, either.  The look on her face when he finally snapped at her after she had cornered him in his room as he was putting his clean laundry away was the final straw.  He grabbed her shoulder when she tried to bolt from the room, tears shining in her eyes, and steered her to sit on the edge of his bed.  He sat down next to her and scrubbed a hand over his face, then told her the whole sad, sorry story, leaving out the wet dreams he’d been having every night, of course.

 

            “So, basically, you’re mad that he gets to live your dream life without you?”  Charlie had the most damnable habit of oversimplifying the issue; or boiling down Dean’s drama to get at the real crux of his emotional dilemma, to-may-toe, to-mah-toe.

 

            “ _And_ he did all of this without asking my permission, can’t forget that little nugget,” Dean groused.

 

            “He needs _your_ permission for what happens in _his_ Heaven?” Charlie asked acerbically.

 

            “Well…still, it’s, it’s not fucking fair!” Dean knew he sounded like a spoiled brat but the inequality of it was what was really driving him crazy about the whole thing.

 

            “Oh, boo frakking hoo! Poor baby Dean!” she shoved his shoulder with hers and he huffed, trying not to cry.  “You need to _make_ it fair.”

 

            Dean laughed mirthlessly, “How the Hell am I supposed to do that, Charlie?  Bide my time until I die, then make a **_better_** perfect life for us?  A nicer house, more kids? Maybe we can get a dog and Cas can keep bees and I can be a mechanic and every day will be sunshine and roses!” Dean threw his hands up in exasperation.

 

            Charlie punched her surprisingly sharp little fist into Dean’s upper arm, ignoring his muttered ‘ow’, “No, stupid idiot! That’s not what I mean.  I mean, make it real,” Dean opened his mouth to point out to her that he couldn’t exactly pop out 2.7 kids and a 30-year mortgage on command, but Charlie talked over him too quickly, “Like, for one thing, try telling him how you feel, that you wish all that was possible and you want that with him, but it can’t happen, at least on Earth.  But you want to be with him, anyway, here on Earth, whatever that ends up looking like.”

 

            Dean sighed and looked away from Charlie because her depthless well of hope made him feel like pulling his hair out sometimes.  Things just didn’t work that way for them and she didn’t seem to realize that.  So, he told her as much, how monsters and demons and all manner of evil bastards would _know_ , and they would use it against them.  How it was only putting all of them in tremendous danger and how he didn’t know the first thing about being in a relationship, much less being in a relationship with his best friend.  Then he started sputtering through his insecurities about sex, and how he didn’t know what Cas wanted or liked or how to do anything outside of what he’d seen in porn and everyone knew how unrealistic porn sex was and what if Castiel expected _him_ to know what to do and…then he slammed his mouth shut because the look of horrified disgust on Charlie’s face was enough to tell him what she thought about his worries concerning the logistics of sex with Castiel.  Dean’s ears heated up to a blazing shade of purple and he let his eyes slant quickly away from her face with a muttered apology.

 

            “Okay,” Charlie chuckled uncomfortably, “good talk,” she stood up from the bed and edged toward the door, “So, you just…think about…like, just…um, you should talk to him, s’all I’m sayin’.”  At the doorway, Charlie turned and smiled sadly at him, “Good luck,” then she was gone, probably to watch copious cat videos on YouTube to scrub away the images Dean had implanted in her brain.

 

            Before he made a move to talk to Castiel, he needed to get all these stupid emotions and shit straight (he, he) in his head.  A list, that’s what he needed!  Dean had had an affinity for lists since he was a boy.  He learned early on that twenty dollars stretched a lot farther if you made a list before shopping, and actually stuck to it.  His dad, and later Sam, had made fun of him for making lists of what they thought were unnecessary things, but lists helped Dean learn all 50 states and their capitals.  Lists helped Dean learn the exorcism ritual and what to kill with fire, what to kill with silver, and what had to be beheaded.  Lists helped him remember the names of every girl he’s ever slept with, until writing down all those names had started to make him feel like a total slut.  Lists had helped him deal with the aftermath of Hell as much as the booze and working cases.  Even though he usually burned every list he made, he was able to remember anything he physically wrote out by hand, so, in reality, every list he’d ever kept was still with him.  He always told people that Sam was the brains of their little outfit, but he was secretly proud of himself for this one, admittedly, nerdy ability.

 

            Dean grabbed the spiral-bound notebook he kept in his nightstand drawer, as well as a fresh #2 pencil and sat back against his headboard to get to work.  After four hours (and three separate failed attempts by Sam and Charlie to get him out of his room for five minutes), Dean had two complete lists:

 

**_How I know I love Castiel ‘like that’:_ **

  1. _Multiple inappropriate boners (barn, Impala, motel in Scranton, Impala again, etc.)_
  2. _Staring_
  3. _Wanna touch his hair all the time_
  4. _His smile makes my stomach flip out_
  5. _Angel voice is HOT!!!!_
  6. _Wanna teach him how to:_
  7. _Make pancakes_
  8. _Drive_
  9. _Kiss_
  10. _Wanna show him:_
  11. _Princess Bride (Never tell Sam)_
  12. _The sunset at that lake in Indiana_
  13. _Top 13 Zep Traxx_
  14. _Those pink panties ( Definitely never tell Sam!)_
  15. _I want to wake up to him in my bed every morning forever_



**_Barriers to a ‘relationship’:_ **

  1. _I’m not gay                         -Cas isn’t a dude, so is it_ really _gay?_
  2. _Makes us vulnerable to enemies -Kinda already are, so…_
  3. _What Sam thinks -Shouldn’t matter, but it does_
  4. _I don’t know how to be ‘domestic’ -Not really sure what that is_
  5. _I don’t know what to do in bed - **Important!!!!**_



It was by no means a comprehensive list, either of them, but they hit on the most vital points.  Dean sighed and closed his eyes.  No matter the situation or how many times he’d done this, he always closed his eyes when he purposefully prayed to Cas.  He usually folded his hands together, if he was doing it in front of Sam.  It made him feel purer, somehow, like he wasn’t secretly thinking about grabbing Castiel by the lapels of that stupid trench and slamming him against the nearest wall the instant he popped into the room and kissing him to within an inch of his life.  In private, his eyes were still closed but he let his body relax and if someday he grabbed Castiel and went to town, then so be it.  Now that he knew about Cas’ Heaven, that prospect seemed like more of a sure thing.

 

“Castiel, who art presumably in Heaven, I hope you got your ears on, buddy.  I, uh…we need to…talk.”  Dean waited with baited breath for the flutter of wings, but nothing happened for so long, he cracked an eye open to make sure he hadn’t missed Cas’ appearance.  When he saw his room was still empty, he frowned heavily.  Cas was ignoring his prayers now?  What the actual fuck?  He thought the guy loved him?  If this was how he showed it, he could stick his love up his feathery ass!  If he thought Dean was-

 

Suddenly, Cas was at the side of his bed, two fingers already extended to tap Dean’s forehead and then they were back inside their house in Heaven, standing facing each other in the bare living room.  Dean opened his eyes with a gasp.  Not because the sensation of flying was so jarring, he was actually getting used to that, but because there was nothing left.  No comfy sectional, no big-screen television, no toys strewn about the place.  Looking out the naked windows showed a lot of the same thing, nothing outside but amorphous-looking shapes surrounded by gray fog.  The hardwood floors under Dean’s feet looked worn and scratched, not at all like the shiny high-glossed appearance of before.  The walls were covered in tiny nail holes and wisps of cob webs.  The house looked abandoned, to be honest.  Dean finally looked at Castiel, whose clothes were much more rumpled than usual, his hair flat and lifeless, his eyes surrounded by dark circles and just as lifeless, their blue turned more toward gray.  Castiel looked abandoned, too.

 

“What happened to everything?”  Cas blinked slowly, like it was taking him a minute process Dean’s words, “Cas, where is everyone?” Then, quieter, “Where’s our kids?”

 

At the word ‘our’, Castiel’s eyes flashed a brighter blue and he finally looked Dean in the eye.  His haunted stare made something slimy writhe inside Dean’s spine and he wanted to hide from those eyes.  He looked out the windows, then swung his eyes back to Dean’s, “They were never real,” he stated flatly.

 

“Y-you just…erased…them?” Dean looked around again, turning 180 degrees, hoping to hear at least one peal of Mary’s laughter or one little gurgle from the mouth of the baby boy he’d never even bothered to learn the name of.  “You…you erased everything?”

 

“I was…nearly done, when you called me.  It took much more concentration to make it all go away than it did to bring it about in the first place,” Castiel looked down at his hands, “I was…very surprised…how much effort it’s been…” Castiel’s eyes flicked to the notebook still clasped in Dean’s hands, “What’s this?” he asked listlessly.

 

Dean glanced down at the notebook, then back up to look at Castiel.  He looked more beaten down, more forlorn than Dean had ever seen him.  Not even when he had taken on Sam’s Lucifer hallucinations, not when he woke from Naomi’s influence, none of the hundreds of times Dean had snapped at him, made him feel small and stupid for not understanding humanity and its myriad strange customs, never had he seen Cas quite so…dejected.  It was like Dean’s rejection of him had smothered some eternal flame that had previously lit him up from the inside.  It was probably the single worst thing Dean had ever done in his life.  Dean placed the notebook in Castiel’s hands carefully and waited while Cas’ eyes flicked over the lists he had made.

 

            “I, uh…this is what I, um, what I wanted to talk to you about…well, this, too.  This whole Heaven situation, but I…I didn’t know…you would…that you…I didn’t know,” Castiel finished reading and lifted his eyes to look into Dean’s, “I-I’m…um, I’m…sorry, Cas.  Look,” Dean took the notebook from Castiel’s hands and let it drop beside him to the dusty floor, “this whole place, this life?  I think I know what you were trying to do.  And, man, I get it.  I really, really get it, I do.  But, I…I can never give this to you…downstairs, on Earth, and I guess I just…I felt…intimidated?  Overwhelmed, that you felt the same and I never knew, I mean, I had no idea you could ever…Anyway, I…I handled it badly and for that, I am so sorry,” Dean watched Castiel’s face for any sign of anger, but there was just placid acceptance, like Dean wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know and he was just waiting for Dean to work through it all in his own way.  “And jealous.  God, Cas, I was so jealous!  I wanted to experience this with you so bad, man, you have no idea.  But, it’s…it’s like, you got to go to Disneyland without me and I…I kinda…hated you, a little bit, for spending time here, when all I ever had was…just my own imagination.  And wow, Cas, I never dared imagine anything like this!”

 

“What did you imagine?” Cas asked softly.  The question stopped Dean in his tracks and he stared, open-mouth, as he tried to find a way to tell Castiel.  How do you tell someone you thought about what it would feel like to kiss them while they were punching you in the face in an underground crypt because they had been brainwashed?  How do you explain that every time this someone had lost was what, in essence, their soul and their own personal super power all rolled into one, that you had hoped they would fall asleep in your bed so you got to watch them sleep and kiss them in the morning so you’d know what their morning breath tasted like?  There was no way to explain the mess of feelings roiling around the idea of Castiel inside Dean’s head.  So, Dean did the other thing he was really good at, he improvised and pulled Castiel into a kiss.

 

He came easily, melting into Dean like he had been made for this, tilting his head to fully fit their lips together, and fuck, did they fit together perfectly.  All Dean’s worries, all his insecurities about giving Castiel the best life, something to rival his Heaven, it all fell away as Castiel tentatively ran the tip of his tongue along the seam of Dean’s lips.  Dean opened to him eagerly, slotting his tongue in alongside Castiel’s as they slowly explored each other’s mouths.  As hard as it had been for Dean to detangle his feelings about seeing Cas’ Heaven, it was twice as hard to remember just why he’s been so upset, as Castiel dismantled him with his lips.  Dean moaned into the kiss and clutched Cas tighter to him.  Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist in answer.  At just that little bit of extra contact, Dean felt a rush of sharp pleasure surge through his stomach, arrowing down to where he was getting hard in his jeans.  Like a goddamn teenager, getting all riled up from a little making out.  He would have been embarrassed if he didn’t feel Castiel, already as hard as a baseball bat, against his hip.

 

Dean broke the kiss to gasp for air, but ended up grasping Castiel’s hair and twisting his head away so he could get to his throat.  Dean scraped his teeth along the perpetual stubble that colored Cas’ jaw, relishing the groan it drew out of the angel.  Cas gripped Dean’s hips and pulled him in, grinding his dick along Dean’s hip.  Dean shift his right foot just enough to slot his dick next to Castiel’s and both men grunted at the unexpected jolt of pure bliss it caused.

 

“Cas…Cas…please…can we…” Dean breathed as he sucked dark marks into Castiel’s neck.

 

“Yes…oh, yes, please Dean…anything…anything…” Cas sounded just as out of breath as Dean.  Out of breath, Hell.  Dean felt like he was spiraling quickly toward downright feral.  He’d never wanted anything so badly in his whole life.  He was frantic to get his hands on Castiel’s skin, to cover his body in kisses and love bites, to taste every inch of him, to see his face as Dean made him come undone.

 

“Bed…we need…couch…something…fuck, _Cas_ …” Castiel gave him a light shove backwards, but Dean was wrapped so tightly around the shorter man, his weight carried them both down to flop inelegantly onto the sectional that had just popped back into existence behind Dean.

 

Castiel grabbed Dean jaw in both hands and straddled him quickly, never separating their lips until Dean ground out, “Naked. Now,” into Cas’ mouth.  Their clothes were gone between one breath and the next.  Dean took a second to realize it though, as he was busy running his hands up and down the shifting muscles of Castiel’s back.  The second Cas’ erection brushed against his own, he ripped his mouth away from Cas, who continued kissing Dean’s neck, licking into his ear, biting the sensitive spot beneath his ear lobe, as Dean stared down in panting wonder at their cocks, flushed nearly purple and both leaking clear fluid from their tips. 

 

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Dean brought his right hand to wrap around both their lengths and Castiel whined loudly into Dean’s clavicle, “Next time…oh, fuck, Cas, next time…we’ll go slow,” Castiel rolled his hips forward and down, dragging his dick down Dean’s and Dean sucked in a wheezing breath, scrambling to get his mouth back on Cas’.  He kissed Cas deep and filthy while he stroked them together, using their combined precum to smooth the way.  It wasn’t nearly enough, but neither seemed to care and Dean liked the slight sting as their skin rubbed against one another, thinking this way, he’d never forget the details.  The way Cas quivered above him, the way he tasted of honey and ozone, but also a little stale and sour, the way his hands clutched and flew from one handful of Dean’s skin to the next, like he was spoiled for choice and decided not to choose, all of these were burned into his memory by the searing rasp of skin on skin.

 

“Next time,” Castiel growled, his face millimeters from Dean’s as their kisses devolved into simply pushing the same air back and forth, “I’m going to take…take you apart…ahhh…slowly…but right now,” Castiel wrapped his own right hand around their dicks, lacing his fingers with Dean’s and _squeezed_ , “right now, I want to see you come by _my_ hand.”  Dean stared, wide-eyed and rapt, into Castiel’s eyes as the angel increased their speed and pressure, pushing him inexorably toward the brink.  Dean watched a blush spread up Castiel’s neck, lighting his cheeks a lurid pink as his mouth dropped open further and he uttered a string of breathy grunts.  He felt Castiel’s cock pulse in their combined grip.  Thick, hot fluid burbled up and over Dean’s knuckles as his own end slammed into his spine.  His vision went fuzzy around the edges and he fought the urge to close his eyes as the waves of pleasure rocked him.  He slowed their strokes and loosened his hold as he came down, his dick softening and becoming over-sensitive.  Castiel swiped his wet hand through the scant air between them lazily and their mess disappeared as Dean pulled Cas to him, chest-to-chest, and kissed him slowly, letting their lips and tongues slide languidly together. 

 

            When Dean finally pulled away to breath, Castiel rested his head on his shoulder, his mouth blowing cooling breaths across Dean’s sweaty neck.  “That’s a handy little trick ya got there, Cas,” he smiled.  Cas hummed in agreement but otherwise stayed silent.  Too silent, and Dean soon realized something was wrong, “Cas, baby, you’re thinking too loud.”

 

Castiel huffed in amusement and dragged himself up to look Dean in the eye.  He stared at Dean, seeming to search for some truth that he would never believe if it came from Dean’s mouth.  Dean sat and let Castiel look, keeping his expression soft and open.  He must have found what he was looking for, as his shoulders relaxed, and his face lost its intensity, “Is this…what are we,” Cas huffed and rolled his eyes at himself.  Dean smiled.

 

“I love you.  You love me?” Castiel nodded enthusiastically, “And we both want to give this a go, right?” Another nod, and a smile, “Then, that’s it,” Dean ran his hands up Cas’ arms to rest lightly on his shoulders, “We’re together, you and me.  If that’s…is that what you want?” Dean’s certainty had faded, and his doubts were crawling back inside his brain to curl up once more in their nests.

 

Castiel’s face split in a beaming smile and chased all the doubts skittering away again, “More than anything,” he answered softly, but firmly.  Dean released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.  “So, what do we do now?” Cas asked, his head tilting in that way that made Dean’s heart leap into his throat every time.

 

Dean laughed and tugged Cas back down, just basking in the fact that he got to do this now, he could hold Cas like this whenever he wanted, kiss him wherever he liked, love him, without having to hide it anymore, “Well, clothes, I guess.  Then I want to go home.  I think I have something to tell Sam and Charlie.”

 

Castiel nodded against Dean’s neck then murmured, “Can we stay a little longer, though, just like this?”

 

Dean smiled and tightened his arms around Cas, “Sure, baby, as long as you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwww! They're so cute!
> 
> One more chapter to go, just a tasty little epilogue...


	3. Trojans (Atlas Genius)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a smutty little denouement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's enough sap in this one to make syrup.
> 
> It's been a rough week.

Trojans (Atlas Genius)

 

            Dean never really thought they’d get to this point.  At least, not so quickly.  Yet, here he was, ass up, face down, in a rather expensive motel room bed, listening to Castiel list off all the reasons he loved Dean as he relentlessly spanked Dean’s ass through his pink, satin panties.

 

            It was a Hell of a way to finish off a typical Tuesday salt-and-burn.

 

            Sam and Charlie had taken the news of his and Castiel’s newly-formed coupledom better than Dean could have ever imagined.  Charlie hadn’t squealed too loudly (at least their hearing had remained mostly intact afterward) and Sam had just shaken his head and smiled as he walked away muttering ‘no shit’.  The only crap the two had given him had been after the first three times one of them had walked in on particularly heavy make out sessions in the kitchen, the War room, and Sam’s room, respectively.  Dean had gone into Sam’s room to deposit a basket of clean laundry and Castiel had followed him to ask what ‘kink-shaming’ was and it had devolved from there, so, really, that one hadn’t even been his fault.  But, shortly thereafter, Charlie and Sam had started sending Dean and Cas out on ‘cases’ on their own. 

 

            The first one, a poltergeist, had been so deceptively simple that Dean had felt compelled to insist he and Cas stick around three extra days, just to keep an eye on the family in question, make sure they had truly released the spirit.  That had been in a little town near a gorgeous lake in upper Minnesota.  It was also the first time Dean had sucked Castiel’s dick.  If he hadn’t come just from the sounds (and the taste) of Cas, he would have been embarrassed secondhand by how quickly the angel came down his throat.  Cas had apologized by licking Dean clean, then returning the favor when the hunter got hard again.  They hadn’t gotten much sleep those three days, but they definitely got their daily allowance of protein.  Dean reassured Sam of this fact when his brother called to see when they would be heading home, right before Sam hung up on him.

 

            The second had been a possessed object, a pair of old timey spectacles a woman had found in a storage locker she’d won in one of those stupid auctions.  She’d been flung across the room, almost drown in her own bathtub, and stabbed in the thigh by an invisible knife, all before she could even get the glasses into her antique shop in downtown Dallas.  When Dean and Cas had walked into the woman’s house and seen the boxes of antiques and collectibles stacked almost to the ceiling, along every wall of every room, they had looked at each other and groaned.  That one had taken nearly the whole two weeks the woman had been in the hospital recovering from her stab wound.  To celebrate the successful completion of that case, Dean had fucked Castiel into the mattress at the admittedly upscale hotel Charlie had wrangled for them.  As they lay shoulder-to-shoulder, trying to catch their breath afterward, Dean had sent a quick thank you text to Charlie for making sure their first time ‘going all the way’ happened in such a nice place (only the best for his angel).  She had replied with a link to a cats-falling-off-furniture compilation video and a middle finger emoji.

 

            The third time, Dean finally caught on to what his brother and best (female) friend were doing.  It didn’t deter him in the least from taking every case the two claimed he and Cas could handle on their own, while the brain trust stayed at the Bunker to provide ‘much needed technical and research support’.  Sure, he and Cas cleared out the small vampire nest quickly enough, but it was only prudent they stick around, mop up any possible stragglers who might have been out of town visiting their dear old granny or something when their nest-mates bit off more than they could chew.  A desperately horny Angel of the Lord was deadly efficient at beheadings when his sexy hunter boyfriend had promised to give up his butt virginity if said Angel could kill every vampire in the house in under ten minutes.  Dean had never been so magnanimous in losing a bet in his life.  He made sure to tell Sam all about it in an email since the little shit kept hanging up on Dean as soon as he reported a case closed.

 

            So, here they were, on their twelfth-or-so Couple’s Case, as Dean had taken to calling them, and tonight was all about indulging their two newest fascinations: Dean in panties and Castiel’s desire to see Dean’s ass a nice fire-engine red as he slammed his cock into it.  Dean rolled his hips back and moaned into the latest slap instead of calling out “twenty-five”, the exact number they had discovered turned Dean’s cheeks the most desirable shade.

 

            Castiel pulled the panties under the globes of Dean’s ass, letting the lacy waistband scrape enticingly along his enflamed skin, “You didn’t say ‘twenty-five’.”  Cas palmed the hot flesh in his big hands, relishing the soft heat that radiated from it, before squeezing firmly and parting Dean’s cheeks.

 

            Dean groaned as Castiel pawed his tender ass, “Maybe you should give me one to grow on,” he mumbled into the sheets as Cas licked a wet striped up his crack.

 

            Cas bit into one bright red cheek and muttered, “I don’t understand that reference.”

 

            Dean passed the lube back, “Forget it, just…” he broke off with a groan as Cas sunk two fingers in to the last knuckle right away.  He was still a little open from that morning’s extremely dangerous (but hot as Hell) shower sex when Castiel had made him come on just his fingers after he’d surprised Cas with a quick and dirty blowjob upon waking.  Dean had been relatively shocked to learn that most of his basic sexual knowledge had translated so well from hetero to homo.  It was still nearly entirely about listening to your partner and reacting to what made them feel good.  Sammy had been right, it _was_ all about good communication.  Dean told him so in a text after the sixth hunt (the one in Santa Claus, Indiana and their first sixty-nine).

 

            While Dean had been drifting on endorphins and beautiful memories, Castiel had worked him up to four fingers and was brushing spit-slick lips up and down the knobs of his spine as he told Dean how pretty his eyes were, how brave and selfless his soul was, how funny his jokes were (Dean knew they were stupid jokes, but it meant a lot that Cas was including that in his litany of praise because it meant he knew it was important to Dean), and how crazy sexy he was when he wrapped his lips around a beer bottle or a water bottle, or anything, really.  Dean hummed and tried to hold off from rubbing at his aching cock through the pre-cum-soaked silk of the panties as Cas slicked his cock up and lined up with Dean’s fluttering hole. 

 

            Castiel had no trouble breaking out his Garrison Commander voice when he knew it would reduce Dean to a quivering puddle of need and he practically leapt at the chance to rough house or manhandle Dean during sex, but every single time he sank into Dean’s tight ass, he did so with exquisite care and the utmost gentleness.  It brought tears to Dean’s eyes the first couple of times.  Now, it just made his heart feel like it was expanding three times its normal size, a la the Grinch.  It was ridiculously sappy and almost too close to ‘making love’ for Dean’s taste.  Almost.

 

            Castiel bottomed out, stealing Dean’s breath away in the process.  Dean would never tell anyone that it was the soft strokes of Cas’ elegant fingers making figure eights over his hips rather than the angel’s hard cock filling him up that left him so totally breathless.  Well, he’d tell Cas because it would make Cas smile at him in adoration, like Dean hung the moon, but that was it.  Castiel kept up the whispered devotions as he pulled out and grasped Dean’s hips firmly for the push back in.  Dean lifted up on his elbows, so he could let his forehead rest on the bed.  He loved watching Cas fuck him from this angle, looking past his cock, flushed and hanging heavy where it had popped over the waistband of the panties between his legs, past Cas’ balls swinging with every thrust, to Cas’ thick thighs and the smooth muscles that rippled under his skin.  Dean almost came the first time Cas had wrapped those thighs around his neck as he bent the angel in half and plowed into his ass.  He’d managed to last until Castiel had flexed those thighs against his ears and then he had unloaded with a shout, desperately pumping Cas’ dick to catch him up.

 

            Cas was steadily pumping harder and faster, his list of loving attributes becoming decidedly filthier, and Dean’s knees were skidding on the soft sheets.  He reached above his head quickly and flung a thick pillow into the rapidly-disappearing space between his hips and the bed just in time for Castiel to push him down all the way with a powerful thrust and a spine-tingling growl that had Dean begging for _more_ and _harder_ and _fucking please, baby_.  He knew exactly the effect his words had on Castiel, as the angel gasped and leaned over to grip Dean’s shoulders instead of his hips.  He set his knees into the backs of Dean’s, his cock going deeper as he ground against Dean’s prostate, making the hunter sob and plead with Cas to kiss him.

 

            Castiel acquiesced to a few sloppy passes of tongues and lips, but the angle was awkward, and he soon transferred his mouth to the muscle connecting Dean’s shoulder to the back of his neck, nipping and worrying at the skin until Dean was crying out, his ass clamping down impossibly tighter on Cas’ cock.  Castiel spilled inside him with a sighed exclamation of ‘ _Dean_ ’ and a wracking, full-body shudder.  The angel’s hips stuttered through their aftershocks, pushing Dean’s softening cock through the mess he’d made of the pillow and his panties.  Castiel groaned as he carefully extracted his dick out of Dean and collapsed next to him on the bed.  He reached back up with a mischievous smirk and pulled the ass of Dean’s panties over his cheeks and Dean chuckled breathlessly into the sheets.  Castiel laughed softly into the skin of Dean’s bicep as he slung a long leg over the backs of Dean’s thighs.

 

            “You only did that so you don’t get come on your leg,” Dean said.  Castiel nodded his agreement with a gummy smile.  Dean gasped in faux offence and whipped his arm out to snatch Cas and pull him under his body.  The angel damned near squealed and tried mightily to escape, squirming and wriggling against Dean, but it only helped Dean smear his clammy, come-soaked panties all over Cas’ stomach.  He finally gave in once the damage was done, sighing loudly and turning his head away when Dean tried to kiss him through an ear-splitting grin of his own.  Dean nuzzled Cas’ neck until the stubble-burn made the angel turn his face back, then he planted a slow, sweet kiss to Cas’ wide lips.

 

            Cas pulled his head back into the mattress and framed Dean’s face with his strong hands, smiling stupidly up at him.  “What?” Dean asked, still smiling.

 

            “You’re beautiful like this,” he said.

 

            “Like what?  Well-fucked?”

 

            “Happy,” Cas sighed and pulled Dean in for another kiss.  Dean sank into it, sank into Cas, his own little slice of Heaven on Earth.

**Author's Note:**

> I said don't freak out!!!
> 
> And please don't cry, you know I'll fix it.


End file.
